


Belly of the Beast, Part II of Troubling the Waters

by DizzyChickStar



Series: Troubling the Waters [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Dreams, Minor Character Death, Multi, Purgatory, Slow Burn, Water Spirit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7191449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyChickStar/pseuds/DizzyChickStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny undertakes an epic journey to save her boyfriend, Big Ash.  It's not without its risks, including an unwelcome ally in Nick Hawley and unpleasant memories from her past.  Along the way, she learns more about the Mills' sisters special ancestry, for better and for worse.  Meanwhile Abbie and Ichabod, working together to support Jenny's efforts, continue to grow closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belly of the Beast, Part II of Troubling the Waters

**Author's Note:**

> After the season finale(3) of the show, I, like many others, was devastated. I've ugly cried and twitter ranted with the best of them. Only recently have I come to accept the death of one of my favorite shows and the inspiration for my first fan fiction writing. And alas, I cannot quiet my muse and I have many ideas for the direction I'd like this piece to follow. I hope that you enjoy reading it and I treasure all comments, raves and constructive criticism. I also welcome questions. Thank you, Sleepyheads, one and all. This one's for you!

I will fear no evil for thou art with me...Psalm 23

     After slamming the door closed behind her, Jenny Mills crossed the foyer and ran up the steps to her older sister's bedroom, stripping off her tattered shirt and drenched pants as she ran, souvenirs of Team Witness's recent fight with evil forces. If this latest battle were a movie, I'd have the perfect tag line for it, she thought. Apocalypse III: This time it's personal. Snorting noisily, Jenny cleared away her thoughts and knelt on the soft carpet in front of Abbie's closet. She whispered a quick prayer. "Lord, please help me find something to wear which won't offend that woman. Club gear and Tomb Raider duds won't do. In Jesus' name, amen." Quickly rising to her feet, she entered Abbie's Inner Sanctum, so called because when Jenny and Ichabod couldn't find her anywhere else in their home, they'd most surely find her in the closet, her small body reclining on the window seat or methodically reorganizing the already immaculate racks of clothing. Other times, she'd be pacing, mumbling on and on about her latest case, supernatural or otherwise.

     Taking a deep breath, Jenny's large eyes took in the first rack before her, quickly scanning each garment before dismissing each one for one reason or another. Too blah, too bleh, too meh. She'd actually selected this rack strategically, referring to these items as Abbie No Show Heaux-don't even forget the x-because each item was conservative and neutral in color, perfectly suited for the occasional testimony needed to place more nameless, faceless scumbags behind bars. As secretly sentimental as her sister was (cough, hoarder, cough), there probably were a few items here from their church girl days, and besides what else would Abbie wear the few times she'd actually darkened the corridors of Sleepy Hollow Baptist? Stumped for a moment, Jenny began pacing and talking aloud to herself. Perhaps there was something about this space that invited solo dialogues and mile long closet hikes. "I really don't have time for this shit," she said, stretching out the soft "I" sound. "Tick tock, Jenny. Tick tock..." Her morbid mind finished out the rest of the whacked out rhyme. _Your boyfriend's body's about to rot_ …Shutting her eyes tightly, she let loose a shaky breath and hugged herself. Rocking back and forth for a few moments, she gradually released her arms and began counting backwards. 10, 9, 8, 7...With each breath, she felt the tension in her body loosen and the blackness clouding her mind lessen. Ash had actually taught her to do that years ago when they were just kids, years before her stints at Our Crazy Lady of Tarrytown Psych, back when the monsters which plagued her were relatively mundane: tryouts, mothers, and panic attacks. It's not like they'd been friends or anything; after all, most of the Indian kids had attended the tribal school, but she would see him in town from time to time. Sometimes she'd look up during recess and spot him watching her through the fence, her wild curls frizzed into a halo around her head, her school uniform faded and dirty from the clouds of dirt conjured by the running feet of her classmates. And she'd watch him in turn, stalking him quietly in a local food mart, as his long limbs bent low to place bag cereal in his gram's cart, his white tee and cut offs a complement to his loose hair and bare feet.

     And though Abbie'd said nothing about it, her eyes'd done all the talking. _You know what Momma said about boys, 'specially them boys._ But Ash's gram hadn't bothered with non-verbals or subtlety. During one of Jenny's grocery runs, she'd encountered Mrs. Louisa "Wren" Silver, Big Ash's gram, alone in the dairy aisle. Jenny'd been listlessly tracking her around the store, hoping her grandson would make an appearance. Whipping around so quickly she startled her, the tall woman addressed Jenny directly. She wore a long maroon dress, and her long gray hair was looped into a bun, secured with a small clip. Her voice, deep and steady, was a calm song in the middle of the busy market, and though her unlined face wore a half smile, her intent was clear in those dark brown eyes. "Miss Mills,(Jenny'd never been addressed so formally in all her life) I'll thank you in advance for leaving my grandson alone. He's a good boy with a soft heart and a sound mind. You and yours are...(and here, she'd paused for a few moments) pardon me, are meant to walk a different path from me and mine. Your father could have told you more. Good day. Love to your mother. She was such a smart girl." The woman then abandoned her cart and made her way down another aisle. Jenny grabbed at her hair and twisted a loose curl between her fingers until she felt its pull at her scalp. Then she nodded her head and turned to leave, the groceries forgotten, the words trailing behind her like smoke. Nobody ever mentioned her father anymore, and she had to think a little while before his easy smile and large, brown hands came to mind. She'd been so young when he'd left. _Paths?_ Jenny was pretty sure her life wasn't following the path it was supposed to. And it couldn't be her fault, right? She'd had no say. As she took the long way back, down past Weeping Lady Way, the lump in her throat dissolved, and her ears began to tickle and burn. She picked up her pace until she was fairly running then, a little smirk on her face. _Time to make a way out of no way._ Sending up a silent prayer that Ash would be her first kiss, her mind began figuring out the details, mapping out ways for their paths to cross. For Jenny knew that faith without works was dead.

     Twenty minutes later, she stood outside her foster house for a moment, silently reciting the names of all the dolls she'd ever owned. Her mind ceased its racing and her heartbeat returned to its steady march. She then entered the house empty-handed and hungry, but determined.


End file.
